


Jaquemart V - The Same River (i. le matin)

by alanharnum



Series: Jaquemart [5]
Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanharnum/pseuds/alanharnum





	Jaquemart V - The Same River (i. le matin)

JAQUEMART  
by  
Alan Harnum

Utena and its characters belongs to Be-PaPas, Chiho Saito,   
Shogakukan, Shokaku Iinkai and TV Tokyo.

This copy of the story is from my Archive of Our Own page at http://archiveofourown.org/users/alanharnum/pseuds/alanharnum.

 

V. The Same River

i. le matin

* * * 

Morning. The curtains were drawn open, so sunlight spread across  
the room like a golden fan and warmed his bare shoulders as he  
lay in bed. That touch, gentler than any lover's, stirred him   
awake, and he opened his eyes.

She was watching him, lying nude atop the covers, hands   
folded on the pillow, head upon her hands, unblinking. He woke   
up a lot to the sight, but hadn't yet grown tired of it, and   
didn't think he ever would.

"Good morning, Miki-chan," she said. She brushed her hand  
against his cheek, sunlight-gentle. "Tears. You cried in your  
sleep again. Did you have another dream that made you weep?"

"I guess I must have," he said softly, reaching out to brush  
her cheek in turn. "But I don't remember anything. Funny. They  
usually don't come when you're here."

Sheets rustled and whispered as she slid herself atop him  
with the covers still between them, and kissed him lingeringly on  
the lips. "Do you need to be comforted?" she asked coquettishly.

"Mmm." He looked at the clock. "I have to get ready to go  
soon. So do you, for that matter." 

"We have time," she whispered, kissing him again. He could  
feel the heat of her body through the covers, and his own body  
was powerless not to respond. "Soon enough, we'll have all the  
time in the world."

"Yes," he whispered in reply, reaching up and tracing one  
finger down her neck vertebrae (one, two, three...) as his other  
hand swept the covers aside, "all the time in the world."

* * *

Nanami, of course, had insisted on driving again. Not that   
Arisugawa Juri especially cared. Let Nanami think control of the  
rental car was some kind of power position to be coveted--Juri   
knew perfectly well that it wasn't, and was therefore content to   
let Nanami drive, as it kept her happy. In addition, having to  
concentrate on the road undoubtedly decreased at least somewhat  
the amount of meaningless chatter that Nanami would attempt to  
engage in.

They'd left the hotel immediately after breakfast, bidding   
Utena a brief farewell before setting off along the wintered   
roads that would lead them back to Ohtori Academy. The plan was  
to park some distance from the campus and walk in at different  
times--she and Shiori first, then Nanami an hour later--so that  
their simultaneous presence on the campus couldn't be so easily  
connected.

Next to her in the back seat, Shiori fidgeted, scowled,   
stared out the window, adjusted the strap of her seatbelt a   
half-dozen times, requested that Nanami change the radio station  
twice, complained that it was too cold in the car (and then, when  
the heat was turned up, that it was too hot)--all within the   
first ten minutes of the drive. She, of course, took Nanami's  
driving privileges as a grave personal insult. Of course, she  
hadn't said anything or asked if she could drive this time, or on  
the way back. Probably best that she hadn't, since she and   
Nanami already were on bad terms. But Juri knew it was going to  
sit and fester.

Somehow, she'd arrange things so that Shiori got to drive  
back. Ask it as a personal favour from Nanami, if she had to.  
Shiori was already teetering on the edge, and she didn't need any  
more little pushes.

Shiori's left hand was resting, palm down, on the middle   
seat between them. It would take merely a brief motion to reach  
out and touch it for a moment; Nanami, intent on driving,   
probably wouldn't even notice. 

Juri didn't move. She closed her eyes and thought back to  
the roof, after Utena had left. 

*"I don't know what more you want me to say to prove it to  
you. How long have we been together now? Over five years. What  
kind of person do you think I am, Shiori? I'm not just going to  
toss you aside. Why can't you believe that?"*

*Her hand against Shiori's cheek. Tears, crystallizing,   
ice-cold, against her fingers. "I see how you look at her."*

*"I'm not going to leave you. You know that, Shiori; just  
let yourself believe it."*

*"You don't find her attractive, then?"*

*"Did I say that? Of course I find her attractive."*

*The wrong thing to say. The honest thing. Shiori stands.  
Edge of the roof, looking over. "More attractive than me?"*

*"I didn't say that, either."*

In hindsight, should she have lied? Avoided the question?  
Hadn't that been what Shiori wanted? To be lied to, to be told  
that everything was still the same, that there was only one  
person Juri had ever wanted, would ever want, and it was her?

Lies. You couldn't build anything solid or good upon them,  
or upon hiding your feelings. It was so hard now, though,  
harder than it had been even at the beginning.

Shiori was better than she believed herself to be. Juri  
knew that, had seen her walk the path to becoming that person for  
years now. And now had seen her turn back at the return of the  
truth: the Black Roses, Ruka, a new locket with a new photo.

Let the truth be like an ill-tasting medicine, for once,   
uncomfortable but ultimately healing. Because she knew well  
enough how the truth could be a fire that burned you down to your  
barest foundations.

The music on the radio was a strident French chanson:

o/` L'homme arm� doit-on douter.  
o/` On a fait partout crier  
o/` Que chacun se vienne armer  
o/` D'un haubergeon de fer.

"The armed man should be doubted, yes," Juri murmured.   
Pleasing to see she still remembered her French; she hadn't taken  
a class since high school. 

"What are you talking about, Juri?" 

She opened her eyes and looked at Shiori. "The song on the  
radio. 'The armed man should be doubted. Everywhere it has been  
decreed that everyone should arm himself with an iron coat of   
mail.'"

Shiori smiled vaguely. "I couldn't pick out more than a few  
words, even though I was in the same French class with you for   
all those years. You really are remarkable."

"I still say we should have brought the swords," Nanami  
muttered. "Damn it, it's hard to drive with the sun so bright."

"This is just a scouting mission," Juri said. They were in  
the city of Houou proper now; straining her eyes, Juri could see  
the uppermost tip of Ohtori Academy's central tower, raised high  
upon the horizon both by its height and by its location on a  
hillside by the sea. "Swords would make us conspicuous. And we  
can't just walk into the Chairman's office and run him through a  
few times."

"Why not?" Nanami asked, perhaps facetiously.

"Numerous reasons," Juri replied. "First of all, it's too  
risky. Secondly, we'd probably be seen by quite a few witnesses,  
and I don't want to be sought for murder. Thirdly, I think Utena  
wants to be there when it happens."

"I know, I know, I know," Nanami said, sighing. "I was  
being sarcastic, you know."

"I know." Juri smiled and closed her eyes again.

"It's a little strange, when you think about it," Shiori  
said softly. "We all talk so casually about it, about killing  
him." Her voice hardened. "Not that I don't want to do it, but  
it's still a little strange."

"It's justice," Nanami replied fiercely. "Look at what he  
did to all of us. Like we were just his little toys. Every pain  
any of us ever felt at Ohtori, he was behind it, laughing." The  
car sped up a little, the chanson still playing on the radio, the  
same stanza repeating again and again with subtle variations in  
pitch and rhythm. "And do you think we were the first? I don't.  
How many other lives do you think he's ruined?"

"Him and Himemiya," Juri interjected in a quiet voice, eyes  
still closed. The sun shining through the window pleasantly   
warmed her face and throat as she leaned her head back. "I think  
Utena downplayed Himemiya's role when she told us her story, and   
I get the feeling that Himemiya played an essential part in a lot   
of what Akio did."

"He was her older brother," Nanami said, as though that  
explained everything, all the surreal, nightmarish things that  
Utena had told them. "What else was she supposed to do?"

Juri said nothing. To her relief, Shiori didn't either.

o/` L'homme arm� doit-on douter.  
o/` On a fait partout crier  
o/` Que chacun se vienne armer  
o/` D'un haubergeon de fer.

"We're almost there," Shiori said.

Nanami's voice was peevish in reply. "I know."

"I'm just saying."

"Stop it," Juri murmured. They did.

* * *

Somewhere inside (and Juri had realized this long ago), Shiori  
was still a shy, quiet, mousy nine year-old whom the others made  
fun of because her uniform was a little too loose (her mother had  
been able--barely--to send her to Ohtori, but had to cut corners  
where she could, and buying a uniform that Shiori could grow into  
was only one). Until one day (a month, maybe two months after   
Shiori had come to Ohtori--it was so long ago) another nine year-  
old (tall, quiet but not shy) had simply put a stop to it.

And, even back then, if Arisugawa Juri put a stop to   
something, it didn't continue. How much of that girl was left  
inside the woman now? Juri couldn't say.

Three elementary students (a boy and two girls, she noted   
absently), all bundled up warmly against the cold, swept by her   
and Shiori as the two of them walked slowly up the path to  
Ohtori's gates. The children laughed and threw loose balls of  
fresh-fallen powder snow at each other as they ran, taking steps  
equally upon the narrow path cleared through the snow and the  
packed walls built up on the sides.

"Playing hookey, do you think?" Shiori asked quietly.   
"First period would have started nearly an hour ago."

"Give them the benefit of the doubt," Juri murmured in  
reply, smiling gently as she watched them. "Maybe they all have  
the first period free."

"Did we skip much class at that age?" 

"A little. I always got us off the hook."

"How?"

"Looking the teachers in the eye, mostly. They hated it  
when you did that."

Shiori laughed. "I remember that now. You and me and--"   
She stopped. One of the things they didn't talk about.

"You can say his name, Shiori."

"I'd rather not think about him," Shiori said after a  
moment. The trees around the path were nakedly desolate. She  
reached out, and fingers sheathed in warm woollen gloves brushed  
momentarily against the cold bare back of Juri's hand. "I'm  
sorry, Juri."

"Don't apologize." An electric thrill lit up her spine at  
the touch. They hardly even ever held hands in public. "You  
know he wasn't anything more than a friend to me." And he never  
would have been any more than that, either, she added silently.

"It isn't what he was to you." Shiori sighed. "It's about  
why I did it. I only did it to hurt you--"

"Shiori," Juri said firmly, "how long ago was that? Ten  
years, now? A little longer? We weren't much more than   
children. And children do stupid, cruel things to each other.   
So forget about it."

"I wasn't a child with Ruka," Shiori said darkly, "or with  
the black roses." They turned left, and began the final approach  
up the slope to Ohtori's front gates. The three children had  
long ago disappeared through them during their slow walk.

"Seven years," Juri murmured. She raised her hand and  
lightly stroked Shiori's back, between her shoulder blades, a  
gesture that could be interpreted by anyone watching as entirely  
innocent--brushing snow away, for example. "All in the past.   
Let it go."

Shiori's head hung low, staring at the snow-flecked road  
beneath their feet. "I wish so badly we weren't here."

"So do I," Juri agreed. "But here we are."

They passed beneath Ohtori's rose-crested archway side by  
side. Two different people, Juri thought firmly--we are not who  
we were ten years ago or seven years ago, or even last week. No  
more than Utena is a little girl seeking her prince, or Nanami is  
a little girl seeking the solace of her brother's arms.

She smiled a little grimly as they left the shadow cast by  
the gates, and stood again upon Ohtori's grounds, not walking any  
more, looking about as though trying to take it all in at once.  
Impossible, of course, and not really necessary. Little had   
changed. The forest still rose at the northern end of the campus  
(evergreen trees, dusted with snow), the tower still loomed at   
the centre. All was clean and calm and bright: white buildings  
with pale blue roofs swept clear of snow, neat paths cleared  
everywhere to minimize the inconvenience to students from the  
weather... all the graceful symmetry she remembered. Hard to  
believe that such a dark heart beat the centre of it all.

"So what do we do first?" Shiori asked.

Juri looked at her watch. Soon, the first period would end,  
and the grounds would fill with students rushing to their next  
class. In the summer, students would be lounging on the grass,   
playing a quick game of pick-up basketball on the courts, a few   
hands of poker beneath the shading branches of a tree... winter   
precluded that. "First things first, we sign in at the school   
office, as any responsible visitor from off-campus would do." 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Juri shrugged. "Possibly not. A better idea than not  
signing in, however. Ohtori's security can be pretty tight where  
outsiders are--"

A too-familiar voice interrupted her, a high, sharp shout   
that carried like a whipcrack. "Hold it! You two, stop right   
there! What are you doing here? Halt!"

Shiori paled. "Oh, God," she half-moaned. "Don't tell me  
she's still working here. Hasn't she retired? She has to be at  
least fifty by now."

Juri watched the spare figure in the hideous fake fur coat   
advancing with military precision towards them. Even at this  
distance (a good fifty feet), she could see the sun glinting off  
the rhinestone-studded frames of the sunglasses, and the riding  
crop clenched tightly in the right fist.

"If you're reporters, you're not authorized to be here!" the  
figure called. "This is private property! You'll have to call   
the office of the Chairman and arrange for an interview, _if_  
he'll grant you one. Which he won't."

"We're not reporters," Juri called. "Bonjour, Madame   
Lamer."

The aggressive stride stopped abruptly. "...Arisugawa  
Juri? Is that you?"

Juri walked towards the teacher, subtly beckoning Shiori to  
follow with her hand. "Oui, madame. How did you know it was   
me?"

"You were the _only_ one who ever pronounced my name right."  
Mme Lamer apparently thought this was a cardinal virtue. "Not  
'lay mur', but 'la mer': 'the sea'." She beamed and reached out  
to clasp Juri's shoulders in a rather awkward half-embrace, given   
her need to keep a hold on her ubiquitous crop. "It's so lovely  
to see you again, my dear. Bonjour, Takatsuki," she said   
shortly, then turned all her attention back to Juri.

"Bonjour, madame." Shiori smiled a bit queasily, and Juri  
winced inwardly. Shiori had coined the other mispronunciation of  
the teacher's name, one considerably more amusing and far more   
vulgar.

"How have you been, Juri? You're so grown up now." The  
teacher released Juri's shoulders, stepped back, and lowered her  
sunglasses. Small rabbity eyes blinked near-sightedly as she  
looked Juri up and down. "Where are you going to school now?"

Lamer Tobuko, Juri thought, mentally pulling up a rather  
dusty file. French father, Japanese mother. Splits her time  
between the Moderns department and the Guidance Office. Early  
forties (late forties by now, she revised). Annoying but  
harmless.

She spent a little over two minutes making chatter with the  
teacher. Shiori was silent throughout. Finally, she politely  
excused herself and Shiori by saying they really should go and  
sign in at the office as visitors.

"Ahh, yes, you should, you should," Mme Lamer agreed,  
nodding vigorously and gesturing vaguely in the direction of the  
attendance office (located, like all the other administrative   
offices, in the base of the central tower) with her crop. "Make  
sure you tell them you're a former student. They're being very   
careful lately about who they let onto the campus--all kinds of  
reporters nosing around, you know, because of that horrible   
tragedy." She sighed deeply. "Trying to drag Ohtori's good name  
through the mud... So sad. They were both such sweet boys. How  
it ever came to such a state between them..." She paused and   
glanced at her watch. "Anyway, I have business to attend to off-  
campus; I was only here to pick up some documents I needed."

"Madame, this conversation has been far too short," Juri  
said quickly, before the teacher could move away. "Could we  
continue it at some other time?"

"What? Oh, certainly, certainly, I'd be delighted," Mme  
Lamer replied after a moment, clearly surprised. "Why don't you  
come to my house for tea after the school hours are over? Say,  
four-ish." She extracted pen and paper from her faux-leather   
purse and scribbled her address. "You are welcome to attend as   
well, Takatsuki, if you so wish," she added perfunctorily.   
"Au revoir."

"Au revoir, madame," Juri and Shiori said in unison. The   
teacher walked out the front gates, humming to herself and  
lightly beating time against her hip with the crop.

"That," Shiori muttered, after Mme Lamer was out of  
earshot, "was excruciating. We can skip the tea, right?"

"You can if you want," Juri offered. "I'm going."

"You're going to tea with La Merde?" Shiori blinked and  
put her hand to Juri's forehead. "Funny, you don't seem to have  
a fever..."

Juri playfully batted her hand away, laughing softly. "I'm  
not going for the pleasure of her company. You know how much of  
a busybody she is, and how much she likes to talk. We need to   
know what's going on--she's the perfect one to tell us. Still   
want to skip it?"

"Hmm. Talk to me later," Shiori said sourly. "If the  
choice is tea with La Merde or riding back to the hotel alone  
with Princess Nanami, it's a toss-up."

"If you do come, don't slip up and call her that name," Juri  
advised. "Remember when that girl who sat in the front row did  
that?" She cupped her chin thoughtfully. "I think she had  
pigtails... or always wore a ribbon... or was it the one with the  
ponytail?" Eventually, she simply shrugged. "I don't remember.  
It doesn't matter. Let's go sign in."

As Mme Lamer had told them, the office was very careful  
about verifying who they were, to the point of bringing up their  
records and asking for identification. The atmosphere of near-  
paranoia was so high that Juri feared for a time that they were  
going to be denied permission to be on the grounds; they didn't  
really have any particular right to be there, after all. Once it  
was clear that they were alumni and not reporters, though, they  
were given a polite but harried welcome by the head secretary,  
and told they had the full run of the campus. Ohtori, Juri  
recalled, depended heavily upon contributions by the alumni to  
its endowment fund to keep its facilities maintained.

They went back out from the office into the cathedral-like  
rotunda of the central tower. First period had just let out, and  
students and staff hurried singly or in groups--in and out of   
archways, up and down stairs, to and fro across the marble   
floor--to their next class. Juri and Shiori paused by the   
central fountain to orient themselves. The air was full of beams  
of sunlight falling through the clear dome overhead, and the  
gentle burble of the fountain's waters.

"So where to now?" Shiori asked.

Juri shrugged. "Look around, I suppose. There must be  
plenty of teachers I knew still working here. I'm sure we'll run  
into someone we can--"

"Juri-sempai? I don't believe it!"

She turned at the voice in time to see Kaoru Miki break away  
from the group of girls he'd been walking with (junior high   
girls, she guessed, and he hadn't been walking with them so much  
as being followed by them) and hurry up to her with a broad smile  
on his face. Nothing to do but stare. We forgot, she thought.  
Up on the roof, she and Utena had agreed to ask Nanami if she   
knew where Miki was, but they'd forgotten... 

"Miki-kun. What a surprise," she said automatically. He  
looked exactly the same as she remembered him from the last time  
she'd seen him in person. When would that have been? Her   
graduation--he'd been in the audience. Slender, average height,  
delicately, almost effeminately, handsome. The silver-framed  
glasses were the only really new addition, and looked good on   
him--they made him appear older.

His smile somehow broadened. "I feel like I should give you  
a hug, but my hands are full right now." A black leather satchel  
in one hand, a thick sheaf of papers beneath the other arm.   
Careful, Arisugawa Juri, she thought vaguely. What's he doing  
here? Snappily dressed in a dark blue suit--that was new as  
well.

She kept her caution beneath the surface, though, and   
clasped his shoulder warmly. "You can give me a hug later," she  
said softly. It really was good to see him again, even under  
these circumstances. "Miki-kun, do you remember my friend   
Takatsuki Shiori?"

Miki turned his gaze upon quiet Shiori. "Of course I   
remember Shiori-sempai. Hello."

"Hello, Miki-kun," Shiori replied.

"It's so nice to see both of you again. What are you two   
doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same."

"Well..." Miki gestured broadly with his arms, as though  
trying to encompass the entirety of the rotunda, of Ohtori,   
within them. "I teach here now. That's my excuse. How about  
you two?"

"Visiting Shiori's mother," Juri replied automatically. The   
cover story. "Thought we'd drop in on the old alma mater." She   
paused. _Teaching_? "Doesn't seem like it was the best time,   
though."

Miki's smile faded. "Yes. Bad timing, unfortunately."

"Miki-sensei! Weren't you walking to class with us?"

"I'll be there in a moment, girls," Miki called over his  
shoulder. "Listen, I have another class to teach right now, but  
after that I have a free period and lunch. My office is room 217  
in Kanae Memorial Hall. That's the new building on the north-  
western edge of the campus. Drop by, please--we've got so much   
to catch up on, so much to talk about."

"Miki-sensei! We'll be late!"

"Coming, coming. Goodbye, Juri-sempai, Shiori-sempai."

Then he was gone.

* * *

"_Teaching_?"

"Juri, please, keep your voice down."

They sat at a table in the corner of the indoor cafeteria of  
the lower tower and sipped bad hot coffee bought from a vending  
machine. Three tables away, the closest group of Ohtori students  
(high school) chatted while one of them played an intent game of   
solitaire.

"Three years ago," Juri murmured, rubbing her forehead with  
the back of her hand. "That was the last time I ever heard from  
him, you know."

"Yes, I remember. A postcard, right?"

She nodded. "Just out of the blue. 'Thought of you today   
and decided to drop you a line. I hope you're doing well in  
university.' Things like that."

"You had it on the fridge for a while, didn't you?"

Juri nodded again. "I think it's in one of my desk drawers  
now." She sighed. "I should have written back to him, but...  
what would I say? 'Doing fine. Sorry I never paid any attention  
to you after your sister died and you really needed someone,   
but...'" Her hands were shaking, and she had to focus to still  
them. "I was so caught up with everything that was happening   
with you and me then..."

"That's not true," Shiori said softly. "You tried to talk  
to him about it. But he just didn't seem to want to talk to you.  
You told me that."

"You're right," Juri agreed grudgingly. "But, still... I  
mean, I didn't even know that Akio was the one driving when she  
died. Nanami knew that. Miki and I were such good friends for   
about a year, and then..."

"So? People drift apart. People change."

"What do you think?" Juri asked, taking a deep breath to  
steady herself. All this emotional turmoil since Utena had  
returned was making it hard to keep up her usual calm, and she  
didn't like that at all. "Is it just a coincidence?"

"I don't know," Shiori admitted. "I don't think we can take  
the risk that it is. We'll have to be careful with whatever we  
say to him."

"Agreed," Juri said. She paused. "If we restored his  
memories--"

"Not here," Shiori interjected. "Not on the campus. Akio  
would feel it for sure; he might already know that we've got our  
memories back, for that matter. Who's to say he can't sense when  
one of his mental blocks is broken?"

"Not I," Juri replied in a low whisper. "But we can't be   
sure that he _does_ know we've got our memories back either, so   
until we're certain one way or the other, we've got to play this  
game as though he doesn't know."

"Rather dangerous game," Shiori murmured.

They were quiet for a moment. The voices of the nearby  
students were suddenly raised in a minor argument: 

"Why are you making that move? Better to put the Jack of  
Diamonds on--"

"Hey, hey, there's a reason it's called 'solitaire', you  
know."

"Just trying to help..."

"Things are rapidly becoming more complicated than I like,"  
Juri said finally, sipping her coffee and making a sour face at  
its quality. "I think we're going to have to proceed very  
cautiously. For Miki's sake, and for our own."

Shiori nodded and glanced at her watch. "Another half-hour  
before Miki said we could come by his office..."

"Room 217, Kanae Memorial Hall, north-western edge of   
campus..." Juri said musingly. Shiori suddenly started as though  
a jolt of electricity had run through her. "Shiori, what?"

"I wasn't really listening when Miki told you before where  
his office was," Shiori murmured. "North-western edge of   
campus... that's where Nemuro Memorial Hall was. Where the black   
roses..." Ashen-faced, she fell silent.

"He must have finally torn it down and built a new building  
on the site." Juri frowned. "I don't like this at all."

"The memories don't entirely cohere, even though I have them  
back," Shiori said softly, eyes half-closed. "One day, Nemuro  
Hall was there... I remember passing by it... then the next day,  
it was just a ruin, and it had always _been_ a ruin, no one even  
remembered it's name... but how could that happen? If we have   
our memories back, all of them, how can a building just become a  
ruin overnight?"

"I don't know," Juri admitted. "Even Utena doesn't know  
what happened to Mikage after she defeated him. She says when  
she left with Anthy, he was still in the Duelling Arena..."

"He's still out there." A visible shudder ran over Shiori  
like quick spider-legs. "I know he is... him and his roses..."  
She touched a hand to her breast and licked her lips. "I   
wonder... that boy who was with him stabbed that black rose right  
into my heart... are the thorns still there? Could I--"

"No," Juri said firmly. She reached out and put her hand  
over Shiori's hand still on the table. "You couldn't. Believe  
in that. Mikage isn't going to suddenly--"

"Why, hello there!"

They both started at the sudden voice and snapped their   
heads in the direction of the voice. Nanami beamed down at them  
with the too-happy expression that Juri knew meant she was  
incredibly pleased with her own cleverness.

"Juri-sempai, Shiori-sempai, what an odd coincidence!" She  
pulled out a chair and sat down as they stared at her, mute and  
silent. "This is such a surprise!" she said, loud enough to make   
the nearby students look over to them. Then she hunched her   
shoulders down and cupped one hand to the side of her mouth to   
whisper to Juri, "Find out anything useful yet?"

"Nanami," Juri hissed in a low whisper. "What was the plan  
again? You were supposed to arrive an _hour_ after we did--at  
minimum. Has it been an hour? And you were supposed to avoid  
contact with us unless absolutely necessary."

"It's been almost forty minutes," Nanami replied. "And I  
was... well, okay, I was bored. It was long enough." She   
folded her arms and even pouted a little. "Besides, I didn't  
mean to run into you two... I just walked in here after signing  
in at the office. It was a coincidence. How would it look to  
anyone who knew us in our Ohtori days if I just ignored the two   
of you as though I didn't know you?"

"Plausible," Shiori muttered. "That was what you did when  
we were at Ohtori."

Juri almost thought she saw Nanami flinch. "Okay, maybe I  
did," she begrudged. "But that was only because of what happened  
with you and my br--"

"Nanami, shut up," Juri whispered harshly, though too late   
to stop old wounds from shining anew in Shiori's eyes. You   
playboy bastard, she thought vaguely--even after this long, you  
can still hurt her. "That's not important right now. What   
you've just done is stupid and dangerous. When we make a plan,   
we _stick_ to it. We don't change it without consulting anyone  
because we get _bored_." She drew out "bored" as though it were  
a long sword emerging from its sheath, and watched with a certain  
perverse pleasure as Nanami flinched again at the tone. "Don't   
ever do it again. Or I'll do whatever I can to get you packed   
back to Tokyo where you can't jeopardize us any further."

For a moment, it looked as though Nanami might snap back   
some reply, or start to whine. Then her face became sober, and  
she nodded slowly. "Same old Juri-sempai," she murmured, almost  
affectionately. "You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't think it  
would hurt to come a little early. And it really was just a  
coincidence that I came in here. Honest." She smiled   
hesitantly, looked back and forth from Juri to Shiori like a  
nervous animal faced with two equal but different threats.   
"Friends again, Juri-san, Shiori-san?"

Shiori humphed softly and looked away from Nanami. Juri  
just continued to stare at her.

"I'm sorry," Nanami repeated forlornly. "I really am."

"Miki's here," Juri said quietly.

Nanami blinked. "What? Don't be silly, Miki's not here."

"He is," Juri retorted. "He works here. A teacher. We met  
him by the fountain in the rotunda." She couldn't help but smile  
as she remembered the crowd of female students walking with him.   
"He's still very popular with the girls, from all appearances."

Nanami... blushed? Juri couldn't be sure--the air outside  
was cold, and there had already been a little redness in the   
younger woman's pale complexion when she entered. Miki had been  
the only male at Ohtori whom Nanami ever paid much attention to  
beyond her brother. Had something more been there?

"Miki was so nice," Nanami murmured finally. "I'm not  
surprised that younger women have crushes on him, now that he's  
a teacher. How does he seem?"

"The same," Juri answered, a bit wistfully. It wasn't all  
that surprising, even given Nanami's (former?) big-brother   
complex. Miki had been the very best of them, in her opinion:   
for herself, an idealistic light to balance her own cynicism and  
darkness. "A little harried, maybe. He seemed to have a lot on  
his mind."

"We're going to see him at his office in about half an  
hour," Shiori said, finally turning her gaze back to Nanami.

"Oh." Nanami looked up at the ceiling. "Probably best if  
I don't come along, I suppose. It would look suspicious." She  
scowled suddenly, eyes narrowing almost to slits. "If Miki's a  
teacher here, it's because Akio wants him to be."

"I know," Juri replied softly. "We'll be careful." She  
paused. "You do want to see him again, don't you, Nanami?" 

After a moment, Nanami nodded. "Of course," she said.   
"Miki was my friend. Of course I want to see him again. What   
kind of person do you think I am? It's only that I don't want to  
see him with the two of you, you _know_ that would look   
suspicious..."

"Yes," Juri agreed. She looked sidewise at Nanami. "Is  
there any reason you're being so defensive about it?"

"I'm not," Nanami replied firmly.

"You are," Shiori said quietly.

Nanami glared. "I'm not."

Shiori smirked. "You are."

"Stop it," Juri murmured. They did.

* * *

"How nice. He named a comet after her."

"It just looks like another star to me," Shiori commented,  
squinting her eyes at the framed photo behind the glass: a short  
swathe of the black stellar void, dotted by faint stars and   
bright stars, with what appeared to be one of the faintest   
circled in red.

Juri leaned forward and squinted her own eyes. "I think I   
can see the tail, faintly..." she murmured. "'Comet Kanae is a   
long-period comet with an estimated period of one thousand years,  
discovered shortly after Ohtori Kanae's death by her fiancee,  
Ohtori Akio...'" She straightened, shaking her head. "Notice  
how there are no photos of him?" she asked in a low whisper.   
"And they don't make it explicit that he's the Acting Chairman?"

Shiori nodded, and ran her eyes up and down the length of  
the display case. It held plenty of photos of Kanae--as a child  
in a ballet recital, as a smiling adolescent in a fetching red  
gown, as a lovely teenager with a white scarf wrapped round her  
swanlike neck--a brief biography, certificates and awards   
(apparently, she'd been big in music and literature), several  
sports trophies in swimming and baseball, a graceful violin made   
of pale red wood with the bow crossed over it, several   
derivative-but-competent Impressionistic watercolours (forest   
landscapes, and a single self-portrait) and a small, sombre brass  
plaque with the dates of her birth and death.

"I remember the announcement of her death," Shiori murmured.  
"We had an assembly... I remember, some people didn't think it  
was right, making the whole school assemble, just because she was  
the Chairman's daughter..."

Juri nodded. "One of her friends said in her speech that  
Kanae never wanted to be treated differently at Ohtori because of  
who she was. Seemed rather hypocritical to me at the time." She  
sighed. "Sad, really," she murmured. "Not even twenty."

They touched hands briefly.

Shiori glanced at her as their fingers slipped free of one  
another. "Do you think Akio might have..."

"I don't know," Juri softly replied. "I wouldn't put it  
past him. He'd murder if he had to. And Utena thinks he killed  
Kozue." She went quiet and looked around--no one else in hearing  
range. "But... he didn't seem the type to do it wantonly. It  
says Kanae died of a brain aneurism. If he can induce something  
like that... why? And if he killed Kozue, why?"

Shiori turned away from the case, eyes downcast. "Let's go  
and see Miki," she said, and began to walk towards the stairwell  
halfway down the hall. Juri paused to sweep her eyes a last time  
over the reliquary of Ohtori Kanae's life, placed prominently   
just within the atrium beyond the front doors, then followed.  
Sad, really, she thought again--a young woman with a lot of   
promise. But her path had crossed Akio's, and...

As they reached the landing midway between the floors and  
prepared to ascend the second flight of wide marble stairs, Juri  
stopped Shiori with a touch upon her arm. They paused within the  
puddled sunlight falling through the high windows like flies   
trapped in amber. Dust motes writhed in the air.

"Shiori..." she began. "How much does this place remind you  
of Nemuro Hall?"

Shiori bit her lip. "Not much," she said finally. "It   
was... dark in Nemuro. This place is full of sun and light."   
She gestured up at the big rectangular windows high above them.  
"Nemuro... had a different feel to it. Different architecture,  
too. Somehow, it didn't really fit in with the rest of Ohtori,  
although I can't really think of how."

"Good." Juri said it softly, closing her eyes, smiling at  
the warm sun touching her neck. "Perhaps it's all just a   
coincidence, then."

"You don't really believe that, do you, Juri?"

"Of course not," Juri murmured. She opened her eyes and  
began to ascend the stairs again, touching Shiori's elbow lightly   
to beckon her along. "But, while we're talking to Miki... as far  
as we're concerned, there was never even a Nemuro Memorial Hall   
for it to be coincidental with."

Shiori nodded. They walked beneath the wide archway   
dividing the stairwell from the second floor, past windows of  
stained glass depicting roses and poppies and lilies; turned, at  
a corner, passed an abstract arboreal sculpture of bulbous  
limestone clothed in shadow, and found themselves at Miki's   
office. The door was slightly cracked. Voices, too muffled to  
decipher the words, reached out from within.

Juri rapped her knuckles lightly on the wood, just below the  
brazen plate with Miki's name upon it. The voices stopped.  
Feet shuffled lightly beyond the door for a moment, and then it  
opened.

"Hello," the opener said, managing to put a certain wary  
hostility into even that singular word. "You must be the famous  
Juri-sempai." 

"I suppose I would be," Juri replied evenly, taking the girl  
in. Final year, she guessed. Tall, curvaceous. Beautiful face,  
pale, thin lips not entirely compensated for by a slight excess   
of crimson lipstick. Hip-length hair, black as coal, smooth as  
silk, pulled back into a thin braid. "And you would be?"

White jacket, with black piping, black-and-gold epaulettes,  
red brocade at the throat and wrists to contrast. Black slacks,  
tapering tight along long legs. "Akino Akami," the girl replied  
almost ritualistically, as though it were a military rank. Juri  
half-expected her to salute. Akino Akami? The name meant   
nothing her. "President, Ohtori Academy Student Council." A bit  
of the stiff formality left her voice, and she bowed. "Miki-  
sensei told me you were on campus. I'm honoured to meet you.   
I've heard much about you."

"Have you, now?" Juri murmured. Beyond the young woman, she   
could see Miki sitting behind the long arm of big L-shaped oaken   
desk. He smiled in greeting at her, nodded his head, but said   
nothing.

Akami straightened, smiling tentatively, as though it were  
an expression unusual to her. "The Student Council of seven  
years ago has been held out as an example to all others that  
followed, including mine. President Kiryuu..."

"President Kiryuu was overrated," Shiori's icy tones drew  
Juri's attention away from the President. "I never felt as  
thought my experience at Ohtori was especially improved by him."

Juri saw Miki wince behind his desk, and knew that he had  
heard--she didn't think Shiori could see him at her angle,  
though.

Akami turned slowly to regard Shiori with slightly hooded,   
sensually dark eyes. "And you must be..." She paused. "I've no  
idea who you must be."

"Juri-sempai, Shiori-sempai, please come in," Miki called  
firmly, defusing further attention. "Akami-kun, would you like  
to stay a little longer? I'd like you to meet Juri-sempai and  
Shiori-sempai."

"I'm sorry, Miki-sensei," Akami said over her shoulder as  
she slipped past Juri and Shiori. "I've got to go meet my aunt  
very soon. Goodbye. Goodbye, Juri-sempai." Another brief  
pause. "Shiori-sempai."

Then she was gone.

"Little tart," Shiori muttered as they entered Miki's   
office. Quietly, but Juri coughed loudly all the same to cover  
the possibility of Miki hearing it, and cast a pointed glare  
Shiori's way.

"Forgive me," Miki said, rising from behind his desk and  
embracing Juri fondly. She returned it, stiffly at first, then  
with equal warmth--for only a moment, and then he pulled away to  
briefly clasp Shiori's hands in both of his. "Once again, it's   
so good to see the two of you. Please, sit down." He ushered  
them to comfortable leather chairs before his desk, then moved  
behind it again. Juri looked around the office as he seated  
himself: big, high-ceilinged, bookshelf-lined, full of sunlight  
from the large blue-curtained window overlooking the room from  
the wall behind the desk. A potted fern in one corner, lush-  
leafed, and green enough to spite the winter beyond the window.

Miki glanced briefly at the computer monitor on the short   
arm of his desk, then turned his chair towards them and reached  
out almost unconsciously to reorder some papers on his neat but  
cluttered desktop. "Juri-sempai, what's your e-mail address? If  
you'll give it to me, I can keep in touch with you after you go  
back to Tokyo." She gave it to him--Shiori gave hers as well--  
and he smiled briefly and turned back to the computer to enter  
them into his mailer's address book.

There were framed photos on his desktop, but Juri could only  
see their backs. Kozue would be in some, she knew him well  
enough for that--was she in one, perhaps?

"How have you been, Miki?" she asked as he turned back.

"Busy, busy." He laughed softly, and toyed with a pen  
briefly before replacing it on the desktop. "I was so fortunate  
to land a position at Ohtori as soon as I finished my Master's.  
For me, it's a dream come true to be able to return here to  
teach."

"I'm still working on mine," Juri said, trying to relax.  
"But, then again, I was never as smart as you, Miki-kun." This  
is Miki, she told herself--your old friend. Who just happens to  
be teaching at Ohtori, and...

Miki clucked his tongue, interrupting her. "Don't speak  
about yourself like that, Juri-sempai. It's just about your  
priorities. I got an early start on my university-level courses,  
so it didn't take me long to get my Master's." He turned his  
gaze to Shiori. "Shiori-sempai, how about you? Working on your  
Master's like Juri?"

Shiori blushed a little. "Actually, I'm finishing up some  
courses I need for my Bachelors," she murmured. "I switched  
majors a few times, you see--I'm in Anthropology now--so..."

Miki chuckled. "I know how it goes. I thought about  
switching from Mathematics to Physics a year before I got my  
Honours, but then I talked to my professor, and he pointed out  
that with my credentials I could get a double major..." He  
trailed away, spotting the increasing embarrassment on Shiori's  
face. "Anyway, dry academic talk. Not appropriate for a  
reunion of friends. Let me buzz my secretary and get us some  
tea. Or would you prefer coffee?"

"Tea's fine," Juri said. Shiori nodded silent agreement.  
Miki politely asked for tea over the intercom, then looked back  
to them in silence.

"You have a secretary?" Shiori asked after a moment.

Miki nodded, and it was his turn to look a little   
embarrassed. "I really don't need one," he murmured. "I told  
them that. But it's policy. You two both went here--you know  
the size of the endowments funds, the kind of budget Ohtori   
has... they give new teachers an experienced secretary to help   
them get accustomed to things. She's been a big help to me."   
He shuffled some papers about for a moment in silence, pursing  
his lips and almost frowning. "How have you two been? Still  
roommates, I assume?"

"Yes," Juri said. 

Miki smiled. "That's good to know. Friends should stay  
together, and you two are such good friends."

Shiori looked briefly to Juri; Juri returned in kind. A   
silent question in Shiori's eyes--Juri gave her back an almost   
invisible shrug. How well could Miki read between the lines? He  
was smart, the smartest person she'd ever known, but he'd had his  
blind spots...

"How are you doing now, Miki?" she asked, looking away from  
Shiori.

"As I said, busy, busy." He picked up a few sheets of   
paper, paperclipped them together, and put them in a drawer.   
"Lesson plans, marking assignments and tests, individual  
consultation... that's not even getting into my work as a   
guidance counsellor."

"Oh?" Shiori asked innocently. "Did the President have a  
guidance appointment with you?"

Juri frowned, but Miki apparently didn't catch the nasty   
undertones at all. "Well, yes. But that's not important, and  
what goes on between a student and his or her counsellor is  
private."

"Of course," Shiori said.

"I meant how are you now, Miki," Juri said. "I know we came  
at a bad time... you seem a little stressed."

Miki's smile became a little forced. He shrugged, and moved  
his stapler to the other side of the desk blotter. "Not much   
more than usual." Juri continued to look at him, unblinking,  
until the smile cracked. "Yes," he admitted finally. "I'm a  
little stressed. It's so... so..." His voice caught   
momentarily. "So horrible," he finished at last. "A terrible  
tragedy. They were friends, you know, and..." He paused, then  
shook his head. "I can't talk about it, Juri-sempai. I'm   
sorry."

"Miki-kun..." Juri began, half-rising from her chair.

"No!" he said sharply. She sat back down. "No, I mean--  
it's not you. I'm an employee of the school. I know things I  
wouldn't know otherwise. So, under my contract, I can't..."

"I understand," Juri said, hurt all the same, but not  
allowing it to enter her voice. "Let's talk of other things,  
then. But take care of yourself, Miki."

"Yes, Juri-sempai." He smiled again, though it was fragile.  
Someone knocked on the door; Shiori answered it, and accepted a  
tea tray with steaming pot and three mugs from Miki's pleasant,  
matronly secretary. 

They talked, as Juri had suggested, of other things. The  
classes she and Shiori took at U of Tokyo; what it was like to  
live in such a big city; research papers they were working on   
(Juri remembered vaguely that she had a major one due in less  
than two weeks, but it was a distant, unimportant thing now);  
parties they'd been to recently; their hopes for the future.

"Still modelling?" Miki asked at one point, as they sipped  
tea and talked in the comfortable sunlit office.

Juri nodded. "Once in a while."

He smiled. "To be honest, I knew that. I buy the   
magazines--not all the time, of course, they don't really have my  
kind of fashion in them--to check for you. Some of the girls in  
my sixth-period Math class somehow found out that I'd known you  
at Ohtori, and they were very impressed."

Conversation turned towards his life. Classes he taught  
(mathematics for the higher grades, introductory and advanced  
physics); clubs he sponsored (the music society, the fencing   
team); how he felt he fit in (a little out of place--he was the  
youngest teacher there, hardly older than the older students--but  
everyone was very nice, and did their best to make him feel  
welcome). He told funny stories about things that had happened  
in his classes, laughed, smiled, poured them more tea, answered  
their questions. He couldn't answer the ones Juri really wanted  
to ask, of course. And the only other answer she wanted she   
didn't want to ask him the question for...

Did he have anyone? Someone to make him happy? Someone for  
him to make happy? That latter would be most important to him,   
she thought. He'd loved Himemiya (she would not call it a   
crush--the feelings could be that strong at his age, she knew   
that well enough). Had he found anyone else, after that?

But she couldn't ask him that, because then he'd ask her the  
same thing back, and...

Did he know already? He'd known by the end, right before   
the duel called Revolution... but had he had any hints after   
that, after things went back to "normal"? It was so hard for her   
to keep straight just what she had and hadn't known before Utena   
restored her memories that she couldn't definitely say. But   
there was no way she could ask...

"No, no, I'm unattached." He was laughing as he spoke, in  
response to a question from Shiori. "The youngest female teacher  
here is almost ten years older than me, and... well, like any  
other school, Ohtori frowns on faculty dating students." He  
paused. "Which reminds me of a story... you see, a few months   
ago, it was Shizuka-san's thirteenth birthday--Shizuka-san is in  
my second-period physics class, she was walking with me today   
when I met you... tall girl, glasses, pigtails... anyway, it was  
her thirteenth birthday, and, for some reason, her friends  
decided..."

Juri sighed inwardly, and looked at her watch. And blinked.  
Half-past noon? Already? She'd been supposed to check in with  
Utena by now. How times flies, she thought, and rose from her  
seat. "Excuse me for a little while. Where's the washroom?"

She received directions from Miki, and, for the sake of not  
lying outright, visited it to wash her hands before going   
downstairs to the payphone she'd spotted earlier near the front   
doors.

Her finger was about to dial the number for the hotel when  
she heard the voice. Soft as velvet, smooth as silk, sensual as  
a caress against her breast--a voice with a vague hint of smoke  
as of incense burning in it, a voice that spoke in a whisper loud  
as thunder...

"Arisugawa Juri-san?"

She hung up the phone and looked back, slowly.

"Chairman Ohtori," she greeted, in calm tones whose calm she  
did not feel. Smiled, and he smiled back at her.

* * *

"So... coming back to visit your roommate's mother?"

"Yes."

Snow crunched under her boots. It hadn't been cleared too  
well, along this path that led towards the forest.

"You must be quite close to do that."

"Shiori and I are old friends."

Their route ended by wrought iron gates, beyond which lay   
the wide steps leading up towards the forest proper. Juri rubbed  
her hands together and breathed out, filling the air for a moment  
with white fog. Beside her, Ohtori Akio gazed past the gates and  
up the stairs, hands in the pockets of his black woollen coat.

"Are students still forbidden to go into the forest?"

Akio nodded, eyes still fixed upon the gates. "Yes."

Does he know, she wondered? He must know. This is _his_  
place, and, fool that you are, Arisugawa Juri, you've placed  
yourself in his clutches again. But...

His head was tilted back, presenting his profile to her.  
Every feature perfectly sculpted as though by divine hand, as  
though he were some Platonic ideal of beauty--male or female, a  
division like that had no meaning for one such as Ohtori Akio--  
cast down from that higher realm to this imperfect earth.

She realized suddenly that she was attracted to that beauty,  
in the basest physical sense, and an almost indescribable nausea  
descended upon her. She'd had little contact with Ohtori Akio,   
even when she was a Duellist, but she was sure he hadn't had this  
kind of effect then...

"Have you ever wondered why ordinary students are forbidden  
to go into the forest?" Akio asked, turning his gaze towards her,  
breaking the flow of her thoughts as a dam breaks a river's  
flow.

"I did wonder that," she murmured. "But I never questioned.  
Why did you ask me to come for a short walk with you, Mr.  
Chairman?" There'd been no real way to say no without arousing  
his suspicions, perhaps turning them towards Miki when they  
wouldn't have gone there otherwise...

"It is an old rule," Akio said, as though he hadn't heard   
her last sentence. "From the school's founding. The fear was  
that the students would behave in immoral ways if allowed  
unsupervised access to the forest--create some sort of hedonistic  
Venuswald beneath the cover of the leaves, such as it were. So   
walls were built, and a gate, and the students were only admitted  
inside, into that beautiful forest, while under chaperon..." He  
frowned. "Trips were infrequent, so infrequent that dangerous  
animals moved back into the forest once they realized they need  
not fear disturbance by humans. One day, or so I have heard   
tell--this was years before I came here, you realize, and it is  
only a story, and stories are often untrue--a wolf came out of   
the forest and killed a little girl. From that day forth, the   
forest was forbidden altogether. But that was so long ago...   
surely there are no more dangerous animals left within." His   
frown deepened, and he shrugged. "Some days, I think I should  
knock the walls and the gates down, and allow all the students to  
roam free within, beneath those bows of pine, upon those trails   
of earth..."

Liar, Juri thought fiercely, staring at him. "Is that all,  
Mr. Chairman?"

"Mr. Chairman..." Akio murmured. "I couldn't remember if we  
had ever been introduced to one another while you were a student  
here, but I suppose we must have been, as you knew who I was as  
soon as you saw me."

A chill ran down Juri's spine.

"But of course!" He snapped his fingers, and smiled  
triumphantly; his white smile, his perfect rows of teeth, beneath  
that finely-shaped nose surmounted by rich dark eyes... The  
nausea again. Like looking at a beautiful city that you knew to  
be built atop the graves of a million murdered souls. "At the  
reception for your graduating class. I asked you to dance, but  
you turned me down."

"I didn't know who you were," she muttered, looking away   
from him. Not true; she had known. She remembered now. She  
just hadn't wanted to dance with him. He hadn't been like this  
then--he hadn't.

"You were the only woman there who turned down a dance from  
me," he said. "I was intrigued by that... but then I never saw  
you again."

"Why did you ask me to come for a walk with you, Mr.  
Chairman?" she pressed.

"Because..." He looked away from her, again towards the  
forest.

"Because?" she prompted.

"I..."

"You?"

"I wanted to know if you would have dinner with me tonight,  
Arisugawa Juri-san."

The "yes" was forming on her lips almost instantly. She  
choked it off by thinking of riding in the back of the car with  
Ruka, to the ends of her world. Akio's smile was blinding, and  
looking into his eyes made her feel as though she were sinking  
down into some deep, dark, secret place. "I'll have to pass.   
Prior engagement," she managed at last. Firmly, strongly--or so  
she believed, so she hoped.

He actually looked disappointed. "Perhaps later, then. How  
long are you in town?"

Two possible scenarios occurred to her: he didn't know she   
had her memories back, and was merely trying this seduction out  
of the perversity of his nature; that, or he did know, and was  
testing her, trying to see what approach she was going to take...  
trying to see if she knew that he knew, but would behave as if  
she didn't, or if she knew that he knew and would come out in the  
open... complicated.

"A few days, at least," she answered. 

Suddenly, there was a leather-covered notebook in one hand,  
a black pen edged in red and gold in the other. "Then may I have  
your number?" 

"Hrm." She smiled thinly. "Why don't you give me yours,  
instead? I have an appointment to run to."

He rapidly scribbled a number in the notebook, tore out the  
page, folded it, and gave it to her. "My cell phone."

"Thanks." She carefully avoided touching his fingers as   
she accepted the folded rectangle of paper. "Now, as I told   
you, I have a phone call to make, and an appointment to get to  
after that..." She'd been gone nearly ten minutes now... Miki  
and Shiori would probably be wondering, and she still had to   
call Utena.

"You intrigue me, Arisugawa Juri-san." He turned the full  
force of his smile upon her, and she felt as though she stared  
into the furnace of the sun. His face moved towards hers, slow   
as though it swam through turgid waters, but she was helpless to  
move as a mouse before a swaying cobra. "You intrigue me very  
much..."

Her palm hit his chest, firmly, bare inches before his lips  
would have touched hers. 

"Don't be too forward, Mr. Chairman," she murmured. She  
could feel his heartbeat against her fingertips; somehow, his  
coat had come unbuttoned, and her hand was against the thin red  
silk of his shirt, against his breast. Warm, so warm, as though  
his blood carried some beautiful fire within it...

Akio straightened, still smiling. "I apologize." He   
looked over his shoulder. "I think our paths part here, Juri-  
san."

"So they do, Mr. Chairman," she said. He turned without  
another word and walked away from her. Juri began to walk back  
towards Kanae Memorial Hall on shaky legs, queasiness lessening  
and fear growing with each step as the effect of his presence  
left her. What in God's name _was_ he, that he could make even  
her feel that way? What must it have been like for Utena, after   
she'd moved into the tower...

Outside Kanae Hall, she sat down on the lower steps and took  
several deep breaths. There were a few other students in sight,   
but none close enough to her to note anything suspicious. The  
cold stone she sat upon helped to calm her further. She wiped a   
hand through her bangs, and found them damp with sweat.

As the almost visceral memory of Akio's presence faded   
completely, she tried to analyse her own behaviour, and found it  
incomprehensible in hindsight. But, when he'd been before her,  
she'd barely been able to keep even superficial cool...

She drew one last breath, then stalked back up the stairs   
and went to the phones again. She dialed the hotel, asked to be  
put through to Utena and Nanami's room number. Utena answered on  
the first ring.

//"Juri?"//

"It is me, yes, but you shouldn't answer the phone like   
that, in case it's someone else."

//"Juri, he knows. I don't know how--well, maybe I do. He  
knows where we're staying, someone got into the room, left  
envelopes... letters, just like the ones from Ends of the   
World..."//

Juri's fingers tightened on the handset until her knuckles  
were bone-white. "How is that possible?" she whispered. "It...  
what's in the letters?"

Utena's voice was calm, disturbingly so, the calm of someone  
on the verge of breaking down. //"I... I don't know. I've just  
been sitting here, looking at them, for almost half an hour   
now... I keep on saying I'll make myself open the one that was on  
my bed, but..."//

"Open it now," Juri said gently. "Tell me what's in it."

She heard, faintly, tearing sounds, the rustle of paper.   
//"I had it in my hands,"// Utena murmured. //"I think I was   
just waiting for you to call."//

Do you want us to come back early? She almost asked that  
out loud, but didn't. Utena wouldn't want them to, and the very  
offer would be insulting, an open acknowledgement of the hidden  
fragility in her voice.

//"It's an invitation."// Utena paused briefly, pointedly.  
//"'You are cordially invited to the reception and official   
opening of the Kaoru Kozue Memorial Gallery at Ohtori Academy,   
Kanae Memorial Hall...'"// Sharp, bitter laughter reached across  
the phone lines and pricked at Juri's ears. //"Memorials to   
them... that bastard. After he..."//

"Is it addressed to you? Signed? When is it?"

//"Not addressed to me. No signature. And it's two   
nights from now. Reception and opening ceremonies at eight.   
Dancing to follow."//

"What's he playing at, Utena?"

//"...I don't know. I don't know at all."//

Juri glanced at her watch. "I've really got to hurry back,  
so I'll be quick. Miki's here. He's a teacher."

//"Oh."//

"You don't sound too surprised."

//"...I've got a lot more to tell you, Juri. I saw Touga  
today--"//

"What?"

//"He was at the hotel, looking for Nanami... he..."//

"Yes," Juri murmured. "Yes, you've definitely got a lot  
more to tell me. And I've got more to tell you. But I've got to  
go now. Take care of yourself, Utena. Be careful."

//"You too, Juri."//

She hung up. Touga! That was the last thing she needed.  
And how had Utena met up with him again? Had he knocked on the  
door of the room, and she'd been stupid enough to answer it? Or  
had she done something foolish like sitting in plain sight in the  
lobby? Too many damn questions.

Akio knew. Which meant that... so, the expedient thing to  
do now was probably to act as though she didn't know he knew, and  
tell Shiori and Nanami to do the same, keeping always in mind   
that he _did_ know... but if he'd done something so open to  
acknowledge their presence as to send invitations to their hotel  
rooms, how could they continue to behave towards him as though  
they didn't know he knew? But, on the other hand...

By the time she reached the second floor, she had the   
beginnings of a headache.

fin du matin


End file.
